


【Mother, Mother】Oh, Ana【A Song Based Fan Fiction】

by gurosinner



Category: Evillious Chronicles
Genre: Self Harm, Song fic, idk this is fucked up man, kinda??, song based fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-10 20:46:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13509465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gurosinner/pseuds/gurosinner
Summary: "I couldn't kill! I couldn't kill! I couldn't… kill! No I couldn't, kill! No I couldn't, kill! No I couldn't kill, Ana. Oh, Ana."Listen to the song while reading, perhaps? Some serious warnings in this one.





	1. — CHAPTER 1: I'll be god

_I'll be god_  
_I'll be god_  
 _I'll be god, today_  
 _Hold my head under that bath and breathe away_  
 _Slit my wrists and watch that blood evaporate_  
 _Being this godly can't be good for,_

With power, comes responsibility and accountability. But in power, you are encouraged into corruption, cheating, lying, finding loopholes, all because the ends (which, depending who you are, is very different) justify the means.  
Through his skewed perception of justice, Gallerian Marlon had convinced himself of one very big lie.

“I am just. I am _not_ corrupt.”

This is, of course, because his end will justify his means. The very concept of his end, for his daughter to be a living human again, justified his end, stealing from evidence lockers, framing people, and taking bribes.

Still, a guilt ate away at him. He justified it to himself as survivor’s guilt. He was guilty that he, pathetic and worthless, wasn't there to die with her and her mother. Guilty that he gave up that trip, that bonding time, all for another paycheck.

Gallerian was a greedy man, and he paid for it daily. Not in losses, not in time, but in bits and pieces of his soul. It broke and it faltered, bringing him closer and closer to death by his own hand.

“Gallerian,” He was close to two people and two people only. Bruno, who he now lay with in bed, and Ma, who he hadn't spoken to in a week. “We’re missing a bottle o-”  
“Whiskey.” Gallerian finished his sentence for him. “I know. I took it. I drank it.”  
Bruno sighed, pulling him closer. “What have I-”  
“Yea. Don't drink. I'm recovering.” He turned a cold shoulder to him. He was in no mood for self improvement, no mood to avoid destruction at his own hands. As close as they were, physically, there was no love in Gallerian's heart. Not for anyone he was close with, not anyone but Michelle.

After all, the ends (Michelle) justified the means (his own slow, spiritual demise).

_Ana's safety, Ana hear me_


	2. — CHAPTER 2: I'll play god

_I'll play god_  
_I'll play god_  
 _I'll play god, today_  
 _Ante up and play that god a poker game_  
 _Walk away with all our little god's spare change_  
 _Playing this god it can't be good for,_

Just like corruption came with power, so did arrogance. Especially in such a position, where the difference between life and death is all in one word, a word at your discretion. With arrogance, comes a self made cage.

“A vacation..?” or “A break..?” He’d wonder about the possibilities of them. No matter who suggests it, coworkers, Michelle, Bruno, Ma, he’d turn them down.

“They need me,” was his usual excuse, “At work, you know, the department is mostly incompetent.” But in reality, he was scared to that the opposite would be proven. He needed people to need him. If work would be fine, if his loved ones would be fine, if the world could continue turning, why continue living? Why work so hard?

Because he needed to be needed. He needed his job to be full of idiots and fall apart if he so much as left earlier than usual, he needed Michelle to rely on him collecting the vessels, he needed his staff to rely on him for a paycheck. He knows every bit of it is a carefully weaved web of false perception.

His coworkers are just as smart as he. Ma could help Michelle. His staff could find new work.

He wasn't all that needed.

_Ana's safety, Ana hear me_

His cage is self made, composed of beautiful wallpaper and expensive curtains. Sitting in a chair fit for a king, but still in a cage. In his arms were what he held precious; Michelle, his pride, his wealth, and the thoughts of others. All of it he clutched, suffocatingly tight, to his chest, as he is unable to let go. He is unable to change.

_Oh, Ana, I'll be with you still  
You are the angel that I couldn't kill_

Living in Alicegrad captivates you for the first two or three years. But then you get bored of the capital city and watch the tourists go by, you watch them smile and you watch them have fun.

Gallerian watched the tourists as any other Alicegrad resident, envying them. He was so scared to see no one really needed him, he refused to leave his cage. His cage that was ever so warm, so safe. He controlled who came in an who left.

Kept within were Michelle and memories of Mira.

Kept so close to the bars, close enough to touch him if he was right at the edge, were Ma and Bruno.

Ma would grab him, pull him against the bars of his cage, try and coax him out.  
“You love me,” she’d purr, “So do this, for me.”

Bruno, on the other hand, would stand there, his back turned away. He wouldn't even look inside, it felt. He was there in emergency cases only. It wasn't awful, by any means, but, more was sometimes craved.

That’s why he dealt with the way Ma pushed and pulled him.


	3. — CHAPTER 3: I'll fake god

_I'll fake god_  
_I'll fake god_  
 _I'll fake god today_  
 _Hop up on a cloud and watch the world decay_  
 _Ana on my shoulders and we'll laugh away_  
 _Faking this godly can't be good for,_

Even all the money in the world, the sneakiest of dealings, couldn't forever hide Gallerian’s missteps, couldn't hide how far he strayed from justice and the Gods. There always was, and always will be, someone watching that will speak up. Someone who’s tired of being included in such happenings. Someone who doesn't want anyone else going through what they had.

Those people were very quickly getting to a point where they could could bring down the mighty man.

_Ana's safety, Ana hear me_


	4. — CHAPTER 4: Ana baby, I'm not crazy

_Oh Ana, I'll be with you still  
You are the angel that I couldn't kill_

All good things come to an end. What goes up must come down. The lowest must fall even lower. Every powerful man will eventually fall.

Gallerian in particular had practically made his own ending. Sloppily covering up his tracks, taking risks that were all too grand, and angering the public just a little too much.

It was not one mistake. It was many, all finally catalyzed by a single, ordinary, mundane dealing.

Even as Ma abandoned her efforts to break his cage, even as Bruno tried to pull him out only to be pushed away, Gallerian held onto his dear Michelle. His baby. His daughter. His only true love in the world.

Money meant nothing. Work meant nothing. The house meant nothing. Ma meant nothing. Bruno, even, meant nothing. They were all, combined, nothing compared to Michelle.

Michelle was his everything. He defended her, clutching her tightly, as the flames engulfed his body. What killed him were not the fires set by people with all reason to kill him, but a woman and her gun.

His last words rang in her head, even in the end of the world.

“Thank you.”

_Kill… kill… kill… kill…_


	5. — EPILOGUE: Oh Ana,

_I'll be with you still_  
_You are the angel that I couldn't kill_  
_Ana, I'll be with you still_  
_You are the angel that I couldn't kill_

"Father,” She prayed, on her knees, looking up, begging to be heard by her father who she believed to be among the stars, on the moon, happy but dead. In reality, he was in hell, watching as his soul slowly turned to nothing. “Father, please, I can't do this alone, I haven't the preparation, the time to prepare.”

She was nothing but a machine, run by clockwork, sentencing one after another.

“Death.”

“Death.”

“Death.”

“Death.”

“Death.”

 _I couldn't kill!_  
_I couldn't kill!_  
 _I couldn't… kill!_

She wondered, sometimes, if her father had the same dreams as herself. Of blood on your hands, smelling so sweet. So thick, so stained, that rubbing on any surface didn't take it off.

She wondered if he dreamed of the damned, and their begs for help.

She wondered if he ever cried, realizing his lie. He was not just. He was corrupt. He was crooked, he was evil, even.

 _No I couldn't, kill!_  
_No I couldn't, kill!_  
 _No I couldn't kill, Ana_

But she emulated him, still.

The Master of the Court was just as corrupt as the one before her.

_Oh, Ana_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I had suggested before, listen to the song. It's good. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WsJMJlXdSf0


End file.
